Air after Rain
by fiesa
Summary: While waking, she wants to hold on to her dream. Multiple chapters loosely connected, AU. Features every character at one point.
1. Prologue

**Air after Rain**

_Summary: While waking, she wants to hold on to her dream. Intended as OneShot, now apparently multiple chapters loosely connected._

_Warning: AU! With capital letters. And ResexCass, duh…The style – different, loosely related chapters from different characters' points of view and such – has its origin in a book I once read, "Geschichten aus der Mitte der Welt"(stories from the middle of the world) by Andreas Steinhövel. I wanted to try something like that._

_Set: entirely story-unrelated. No hunters here.  
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_Disclaimer: Standards apply. _

_(I just remembered, Snowlia, you said you love High School AUs… I guess this is something like it…) _

_Also, Merry Christmas to you! This is my gift to all the readers out there. Great holidays and a Happy New Year._

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

"Hmm," he muses. "I love the scent of air after rain."

They are walking down a dark street, the lamp posts illuminating his features once in a while. The night air is cool on her heated skin, cool but not cold. Summer is her favorite season and she loves the way the soft night wind whispers through her hair. She loves the way the air tastes alive and heavy. She loves the way the night sky is black and endless, and the way the stars seem like a thousand little lights so far, far away. She loves the silence all around them, the silence that seems to envelop her entirely, sets her apart from the sleeping world and makes her part of it more than anything else.

And, most of all, she loves him.

Teresa tries to look at the dark figure at her side – to _really_ look at him – but his features disappear in the shadows again and again and reappear, and he looks different every time.

For some reason, she cannot remember his face.

So she tries to look harder while pretending not to do so. She looks and looks, with a rising feeling of dread that borders on desperation, but she cannot recall his features. His eyes. Which color are they? His face – is it long and oval or round and small? Does he frown often? Is the curve of his lips ironic or honestly humorous? In which way does his hair fall into his eyes? Does he carry glasses? Are there any scars?

Her eyes should be good enough, she has the distant feeling, and yet she cannot see him clearly. She tries hard to remember, panic and fear rising in her throat like bile. She falters, falls back a few steps and he is suddenly before her. His shoulders are a blurred line against the white walls of the houses they pass. Is he taller than her? A bit, perhaps. There is a message in the way he walks, in the way his arms swing back and forth and his shoulders move slightly. But Teresa cannot read it though she desperately wishes she could. She also wishes he would stop, turn around and wait for her. She is falling behind more and more. She speeds up but he moves faster. Wind rushes past her, tangles in her hair and swallows a call she hasn't realized she is making, swallows a name she doesn't know but yearns to say. The air tastes fresh, the hot heaviness of the day gone, the night's flavors and scents burning on her tongue. She never knew the night _tasted_ – tasted like wet grass and damp pavement, like black velvet and clear water. The night is her true nature, her refuge. Her friend. It feels familiar and strange, in the same way the boy in front of her feels like a stranger and yet so, so familiar. So familiar she wants to touch him, wants to reach out and grab him and feel the warmth of his skin, the softness of his eyes and the touch of calloused hands on hers and…

Teresa wakes up and feels like crying.


	2. No 58

_Reminder: The chapters of this story are losely related, who keeps on reading soon will see in which way. _

_This story is AU. The characters are known from Svetlana Chmakova's Night School. Standard disclaimers apply. _

_I hope the chapter will be to your liking even if it's different from what I normally write.  
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><p><em>Air after Rain - Chapter 2<strong><br>**_

**No. 58**

"_Marina_! Mar, don't do that, don't – DON'T! Damn! I wanted some, too!"

The voice exploded through the open window of No. 58, wafted across the front-yard and reached the street without losing strength significantly. The old lady passing by with her dog smiled at the noise which was cutting through the warm summer air at such early time. Her dog, a white-and-black spaniel, sniffed the lamp-post devotedly, which meant she was able to stop in front of the house without looking suspicious. Not that she _had_ been suspicious, had anyone looked. The old lady was as much part of the scene as was said lamp-post.

No. 58 was a nice house.

It was tall, yellow and neat, with many windows and a mail box at the street, and the front-yard, obviously, was well kept. Flowers stood in full bloom and one or two cherry trees were already full with the promise of a rich harvest. And yet the white door hid a world different from the one that unfolded behind the doors of the other houses in this street.

Behind it was a world different from the one most people in this town knew.

They were _different_, the family that lived here. The husband was a diplomat, always on his journeys through the world. He rarely came home but when he did, the house seemed to explode with voices, laughter and life even more than usual. The wife was a teacher at an orphanage. Which probably was the reason she had adopted all those kids in first place. Only two of the six children which lived here where hers by blood; the eldest boy and the second-eldest girl. It was quite clearly visible which were hers and which not since the two children – the boy and the girl – had inherited their father's dark skin and hair. Their outer appearance was nothing like their mother's. The woman herself had hair like silver, grey even though she only might have been in her early forties, and skin pale as moonlight. She was rather beautiful, something many women in town either envied or begrudged. Sometimes, seeing her, the old lady, too, longed for the time when she herself had been younger, when her skin had been smooth and pale and not wrinkled and dry and parchment-like.

But in character, the kids were like her, and that was just as well.

She was a good woman. Always friendly, always polite, always ready to help if help was needed. The old lady didn't share the prejudices other people in town did. She had met the woman once or twice and had been positively surprised at how polite she and her children were. Since they weren't natives, people gossiped a lot. This was made even worse by the fact that four of her six children were orphans, adopted from early age on. And as in every smaller town, gossip spread faster than measles in kinder garden.

There were four girls and two boys.

The eldest son had to be eighteen by now and had inherited his father's dark skin, curly hair and serious expression. He was in his senior year and would finish high school next year. He, or so the local gossiping network stated, would go to college next year, along with Mariska Price's daughter and Vienna O'Rourke's son. The next one, a tall girl with chocolate-colored skin and long, black hair, always seemed a bit remote. She didn't have many friends, so the lady had heard, and she seemed to care for her siblings a lot. There once had been this incident, many, many years ago, involving a bunch of children who had been teasing the youngest addition to the family. The girl had almost single-handedly taken down the mob leader, had gained a reputation as overly aggressive and dangerous and had had the boy's mother complain to everyone who wanted to hear that Anathea Walker had done one hell of a bad job in educating her _bastard children_. The lady had quietly put together the puzzle for herself: Trisha Vandervelt had always looked down on anyone who couldn't afford to spend his holidays on Mallorca or in Paris. It stood to reason her son would inherit her view on life, and the fact that a ten-years-old girl had humiliated him in front of his friends and co-bullies probably had him whining for his mother. Of all the gossip-hungry, prejudiced women in town, Trisha Vandervelt was the worst, and secretly the lady congratulated the girl for her courage. And her mothers, of course, since Anathea Walker had been the one who had told Trisha to go to hell – in other words, of course, and very, _very_ polite. Next came the twins, fraternal ones, a girl and a boy. They were twins in almost everything: in their facial features, in the way they moved, in the way they talked and in the way they seemed to watch the world through a curtain of careful alertness. Only two things set them apart: their hair color and their character. The boy had red and golden hair and a mouth that – to quote Mrs. Murray, teacher by divine right, at least in her own eyes – would once be his downfall. The girl's hair, on the other hand, was of a silver-white blond that made her look like an angel. She was her brother's opposite in character, shy and quiet, but they both were equally kind and soft-hearted. The old lady once had watched them bury a dead bird they had found in their front-yard. Childrens' tears were always heartbreaking, but there had been little in her life she had seen that had been as heartbreaking as those _eyes _that seemed to have seen things not even adults should have. Then came Anathea's own daughter. Dark-haired and dark-eyed just like her father, she had inherited her mother's features, her short stature and her smile and her father's kindness. Where she had gotten her mouth from no one knew because she could talk and talk on forever, smiling and laughing and telling stories without ever falling silent. Dianne, the lady's grand-daughter, was in the same grade as the girl and had told quite a few stories that involved her and some or another incident during class. She was intelligent, very so, and teachers had often gone on about her cleverness. There were people, of course, who had found themselves on the receiving end of her wit, and most of them hadn't liked it. But then, most people didn't really like it when they were being proven wrong. And, finally, there was the last girl – the youngest one, the smallest, most fragile, barely twelve. Small and shy and adorable. She was the family's treasure and everyone made sure to take care of her. The girl loved animals, especially dogs, and the old lady had spent lots of time standing in front of the family's house, chatting with the girl and watching her pet Sora's head. The dog certainly loved the girl, for it seemed to spend a great amount of time in front of their house, even if there was no sign of her near and far.

The old lady smiled and listened to the noises drifting outside from the open kitchen window.

Today was the first day of school after the summer vacations, Dianne had reminded her two days ago. Her grand-daughter hadn't been able to wait for school to start again patiently. She was looking forward to seeing her friends again and to being able to participate in club activities. The girl always had had a love for strange clubs – last year she had decided to join the astronomy club even though she had never spent a thought on stars beforehand. What would it be this year? The old lady reminded herself to call her son at the end of the week in order to find out what the girl had gotten herself into this time.

Chairs scraped across the kitchen floor of No. 58, barely audible over the sounds of a car that passed on the street of the small neighborhood. A loud yell was heard and soft laughter, then a stern voice. Whatever people gossiped about, Anathea Walker was a good mother. She knew exactly what children needed. How else would she have been able to raise six children, of which four out of six had been orphaned in early age and were extremely difficult?

The old lady remembered the day the new family had moved into their quarter of the city. There had been a rumor than the old Hunter house had been finally sold – why everyone called it the Hunter house was beyond most of the people, only few, like the old lady, knew the reason – and that a young family would move into town. Well, soon enough the good citizens had realized they were far from the perfect neighbors one wished for. A man who left his wife alone for weeks after weeks? A woman who continued to work in her job even though she had six children to take care off? Who drove more than one hour every morning to get to her job, which, in addition, even was _out of town_? The place was small and everyone knew everyone. The lady knew that gossip originated from the fact that too many people were confined to too little space – or, in case of their town: confined to the boredom of everyday life. But even more than the fact that they were complete foreigners the fact that the children had grown up left greatly to themselves enraged the citizens. The kids knew how to spend their days by themselves, playing in the garden and at the river, preparing dinner and breakfast, the elder siblings taking care of the younger ones. The lady couldn't say it _hadn't_ done them any good. Rather, it was the opposite: she wished Dianne or Chris would spend only half as much time outdoors as those children did. Sitting inside all day wouldn't do them any good. But since his father had given Chris a new computer the boy was rarely approachable, and though Dianne participated in club activities, her favorite pastime was watching TV. Heavens, the lady loved her sons and her grand-children, but she liked what she saw when she saw the Walker children.

The front-door opened with a bang and the twins appeared on the steps, shouting good-byes, one enthusiastically, one softly. When they saw her, the boy flashed a bright smile at her, too.

"Good morning, Mrs. Rubin!"

The old lady answered his greeting and smiled. The twins were barely off when the door burst open again and the second-eldest girl appeared; her curly hair dancing in the summer morning's air. She was closely followed by her youngest and her older sister. Though all dark-haired, their different heritage was clearly visible. Together, they ran down the garden path. The dark-skinned girl shouted out a greeting and the youngest stopped to pat Sora's furry head and the eldest offered her a tiny smile and a polite greeting and off they were, walking towards the bus stop on the corner of the next street.

Sora, right on cue, finished sniffing and coughing and looked at her owner expectantly. The lady smiled.

"Let's go, shall we?"

The summer sun was warm on her back. The heat of the day was slowly building up now. Her bones ached, but not too painfully.

There was no change of weather in sight.


	3. Of Monsters under Beds

_Air after Rain – Chapter 3_

**Of Monsters Under Beds**

The coffee machine was already spluttering.

The kitchen was tiny, small enough for one person and one person alone. Ronee's dad was already up, as he was every morning when she came down the stairs. His head almost disappeared in the open fridge.

"Good Morning."

Martin Leyburne pulled back his head so fast he hit it on the door. The refrigerator swayed dangerously, the bottles of soy sauce, mayonnaise and salad dressing they would never finish in this lifetime clanking and clattering cheerfully. Looking into the bright patch of sunlight in which his daughter stood, he blinked.

"Don't scare me like that! Good Morning, daughter."

Ronee grinned and squeezed into the room. On the small table margarine, bread and cheese were strewn all over the place – her father never took the time to eat carefully and in an orderly fashion. Her coffee mug in her hand she sat down as well, carefully sipping the hot beverage. Eying the bread basket, she chose a small piece and spread jelly onto it. She wasn't hungry but knew she would be if she didn't eat at least a little bit. Approximately one meter away from her, on the other side of the table, her father had grabbed the newspaper and had buried his head in it, his breakfast momentarily forgotten.

"Heh," he snorted. "And here we go."

Ronee didn't ask what he was reading about. She had long ago given up on asking, knowing the only explanation she would get was a clipped, distracted one. While she was interested in national and international news, she rarely found the time to read up on it. Which was fine, she figured. If something important happened, Remy would surely tell her.

_Today is the first day of the new trimester;_ she thought and tried to determine whether she felt happy or annoyed. It wasn't as if she disliked going to school. One part of her was glad the holidays were over – she was looking forward to meeting her friends again, to returning to the regularity of block-days and non-block-days, homework and homeroom. School days were _predictable_, and that was good. Sion would jokingly have tagged her with control issues but Ronee liked what she knew. Change would come soon, so she enjoyed the familiarity of her schedule right now. She, of all, knew _how _fast change came sometimes… In her mind, she went over her classes quickly. AP History. Physics Honors. American Lit, of course, and a few others. There was supposed to be a new teacher this year, replacement for Mrs. Fink, who was on maternity leave. Everyone had been gossiping about him before summer break but then, what else did she expect? Gossip made the world go round in this little town of hers. Really, she would be glad to leave for college. Or perhaps she would miss it? Grinning, Ronee took another sip of coffee.

It would be their last year at Benjamin Theron High School.

She hadn't spoken to Sion and Remy for three weeks, now. Her friends had left for vacation, Lake Tahoe or such, and while Remy had been online for the entire time (he never switched off his mobile) Sion had, as always, studiously ignored her mobile and every single email that might have reached her mailbox during that time. They were so different, the two of them: Remy, the tech freak, always up to date concerning the latest news and the latest technology, and Sion, who had to be forced to check on her emails once a week. Ronee had figured the two of them hadn't really wanted to know what was going on in the world for the time being, so she hadn't tried to reach them. But she had missed them, especially on long days without much to do. Her holiday job in the library had left her with quite some time to think and while she had enjoyed the quiet of the great, book-filled hall, she had sometimes wondered about her friends. Sion and Remy both already knew what they wanted to do after college. Ronee, on the other hand, still wasn't quite sure. She had an idea, of course, of what she would _like_ to do, but nothing seemed concrete enough to grasp it and to make plans for it. She wondered if she would always be this way, waiting and worrying, wondering and hoping and always, always feeling like there was more than everything.

"Ronee," her father said and she shook off her thoughts to look at him. Dark eyes eyed her from over his up of tea, so like hers. Dark eyes stared at her from above the silver rims of his glasses.

"Did your mother call?"

Ronee shook her head. "No. Why?"

"Oh," her father said, somewhat airily, and she was suspicious instantly. "I just thought… You talk to her on the phone once a week, so…"

"I've talked to Rochelle, not to Mum."

"So." Her father sighed and drained his coffee. Ronee felt a bad feeling rise in her stomach.

"Dad – what's the matter?"

"Well." Taking off his glasses, he wiped them carefully. Ronee allowed him the few seconds to gather his thoughts and sighed inwardly.

"I'm working on this project right now, you know, the international one, and we decided we would need some further information. There is this fair in Germany next month, and I thought…"

His voice faded away. Ronee frowned. "You won't be here next month."

"It's only for a week, but..." He looked at her, guilt plain in his eyes. "Can you stay at your mother's house for that time? It'll only be five days."

"Dad," Ronee said. "I'm seventeen years old."

"You mean you can stay here by yourself?"

Ronee repressed a sigh, but it was full of love. It wasn't as if she wasn't _theoretically_ alone most of the time. Her dad might be there for breakfast every day but his work kept him busy until late into the night. When he came home, Ronee mostly was asleep already.

…

When she was little, she had often laid awake waiting for him.

The little apartment was homely and safe during days but during night developed a life of its own. She had lain there, under her thick covers, and had fearfully watched the darkness. It was solid and black, like a thick, heavy blanket that coated her, crushed her and rendered her breathless. She barely dared to breathe under the covers of her bed.

The light in the corridor had been left on, it always had, but the thin strip of light falling into her room made the shadows around her bed only darker and more threatening. On many nights Ronee had desperately wished for her father to come home, to turn on the light in the kitchen and to pull out the dish Nana always left there for him. And as much as she feared the darkness, she feared the sounds. As long as the only thing she heard was her heart-beat in her ears – a steady, soft sound like Mum's high-heels walking across the rooms – she was safe. But the sounds of a house during night – the creaking of the wooden floor boards, the ticking of the clock in the kitchen, even the soft hum of the AC filled the night with danger. Ronee had pulled her blanket over her head and had squeezed her eyes shut. As long as she remained underneath the heavy, suffocating covers, she was safe from the monsters under her bed and in the corridor. That way, she had spent many nights waiting for her father…

Now she knew the monsters had been in her head, not under the bed.

How old had she been then? Nine years, perhaps ten. Two months before, Dad had stood in the living-room, telling her and Rochelle he would be leaving. She hadn't understood – how was a ten-year-old girl supposed to understand words like child support and divorce and habit and for your own good – but she had known this was the end of everything she knew. Her little sister had been holding her hand, dark eyes wandering from Dad's slumped figure to Mum's mask of a face – and then to Ronee's wordless expression of dread. And something in Rochelle's eyes had made Ronee open her mouth.

"I'm going with you, Dad."

It took so little to commit oneself.

…

"Yes, of course," Dad said, and unaltered pride appeared in his eyes. "Seventeen, almost eighteen. You're a big girl now. When did it happen?"

"Dad," Ronee said, trying to chase away the awkward silence with a light laugh. "I'm almost taller than you."

"I don't mind, as long as I remain older than you," he retorted, a smile playing on his lips. It took so little to see what he really was like: a kind man, caring, warm, committed to anything he did. He hadn't wanted to leave her alone at night, he had always tried to be back as soon as possible. And he had made sure their neighbor was there to look after her, the old lady didn't mind at all. She lived by herself and was only too happy to be able to take care of a child again. This was her father: smiling, teasing, glowing with some inner strength Ronee couldn't apprehend but wished to gain, as well. One day, surely, she would. "I'll be gone from Monday to Saturday. I'll tell Nana to have an eye on you."

"Which she always has anyway."

"Yes, she's a pearl – what would we do without her?"

"We'd have less dog hair on our carpet."

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound, and Ronee felt it vibrate through her bones, right into her heart. Affectionately, she took his cup.

"Tea?"

"Please!"

The fingers of the clock turned towards seven. Her father drowned the tea, grabbed his bag and made a bee-line for the door, but not without throwing her one last, loving glance. "Have a nice day, love!"

"You too, Dad."


	4. Welcome To

_Air after Rain – Chapter 4_

**Welcome To**

Oh God.

He wasn't going to survive this. He was going to die, die an early, inglorious death, and nobody would even notice he had. He would die young, in the prime of his years, and somewhere in the future they would find his well-built, handsome body underneath the rubble and ashes of this building. Nobody would ever miss him, _especially _not his elder brother, that stupid ass who was to blame for the fact that he was here today.

And would, most likely, not survive.

Sighting, Eron Hawke brushed his arm past his forehead to stop the sweat from running down his face. Why, in the name of everything that was holy, had he decided he had wanted to be – of all the different possibilities that existed in life – a _teacher_?

Not that he was one yet, by all means. But being a young, inexperienced teaching assistant was far more than he thought he could handle right now.

The corridor was full of screaming, laughing, running and milling students of all ages and every origin. While desperately trying to push himself through the congealing crowd, he caught sight of a girl greeting her – _hopefully_ – boyfriend with an enthusiasm that almost made him blush. On the other side, three boys were shoving each other against their lockers, some kind of ancient ritual of cavemen which was dictated by Darwinism or something alike. It did look serious but none of them seemed to mind, so Eron decided not to intervene. They'd probably only push _him_, and he didn't think he'd survive a collision with the locker in the same way they did. _We weren't like this. Oh no… _Three girls, barely sixteen, crossed his path. One of them smiled at him shyly and blushed. One of them fluttered her eye-lashes – _very, very long eye-lashes_ – at him seductively. It was hard not to stare at her décolleté – _Don't look, Eron, don't – woah!_ And the third one's hand grazed his biceps as she passed.

_No. When I was this age, we _definitely_ weren't like this._

Purposefully, he ignored the voice in his head screaming that _Hell, yes!_ He had been like that, too. Acknowledging it would have meant to acknowledge the fact that he was getting _old._ Or, at least, he had reached the age when young girls weren't all that attractive to him anymore. Fiona, his last girlfriend, had told him that men were only interested in girls ten years younger than themselves as long as they were older than fifty. So _no_, of course he wasn't blushing, and _of course_ he didn't feel flattered. Not the least bit.

"I'm not going to! I'M NOT! NEVER! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!"

_Whoa!_ Eron was thrown out of his thoughts rather rudely and he lifted his head right in time to see a girl scream bloody murder at a woman with orange-red hair and a rather spaced-out expression. Her voice probably reached the 130 phon barrier, since it hurt in his ears. The woman in front of her, though, seemed absolutely unfazed. She turned away in order to pick up some files from the cabinet next to the door he had wanted to pass through. _Registration Office_, the little blue sign said.

"You'll have to get used to the fact, Celeste," the woman answered, her eyes on the papers she shuffled through. "Because I won't take Travis out of Mr. Robinson's class just because you can't stand him."

"I WON'T! YOU'RE OUR COUNSELOR, DO SOMETHING, I WON'T SIT EVEN IN THE SAME ROOM-"

"I then suggest that you stand," the woman answered, now looking up and still smiling. With that, she earned Eron's undying respect. He would have long run from the room screaming had he been in her position. "Because you're in your senior year and you _need_ the credits for a certain Biology class," she continued. "So unless you don't want to remain at this school for an additional year, you'll have to learn to be in the same classroom as people you don't like. And now, please, I have some other people to talk to. Run on, Celeste."

The girl _did_ leave, her face featuring an expression so dumbfounded Eron almost laughed out loud. Nobody ever seemed to have talked to her like that before. The woman – the counselor, apparently – sighed and raked a hand through her short, orange hair. Then she turned around again and the bright, sunny smile graced her features once more. Eron started to suspect she was an alien.

"The first day of a new term – always pure joy!"

Nevertheless, he grinned back. He already liked her.

"So I see. I'm…"

"Eron Hawke, our new teaching assistant, I assume," the woman interrupted him, smiling widely and grabbing his hand. "Welcome to B.T. High School! We're so glad to have you here!"

"My pleasure, Miss…"

"Sarah," she answered, blushing a bit. "How stupid to forget to introduce myself. Sarah Treveney. As you can see, I'm responsible for organization, first aid, joys and sorrows, troubles of all sorts, dirty cafeteria tables, lost notebooks and all that stuff that doesn't get done by itself in a public high school…"

Eron decided he _really_ liked her.

"Sounds like you've got the best job in this school."

"Unfortunately, the pay's not the best!" She laughed. "But…"

Before she could finish, a girl rounded the corner and saw her. "Miss T!"

"Rochelle!" The woman's smile broadened even more. "Welcome back! How were your holidays? Were you able to meet your sister?"

"Yes!" The girl was barely fifteen, with dark hair, skin and eyes. Her face shone. "She took me out for shopping, and we went on a trip to the river, and I saw so many birds! It was wonderful!"

"That's great! I told you, you just needed some time for the two of you to talk. Listen, did you come to ask me something?"

"Oh yeah, the exchange student is here, I brought her with me…" And really, behind the girl stood a South-American-looking student, small and dark-haired and lost. The girl was desperately trying not to clutch her backpack all too hard to her chest. The counselor immediately turned to her and her bright smile seemed to ease the girl's nervousness immediately. "Welcome to Benjamin Theron High! I'm Sarah Treveney, the counselor. Why don't you come in?"

She pointed towards a tiny, cramped office to her right, then turned back to Eron. "I'm sorry, but I won't be able to escort you to our esteemed Director… Rochelle, would you please be so kind? By the way, this is Mr. Hawke. He's starting as a teaching assistant today."

"Of course!" The girl seemed happy to be of help. Eron couldn't remember children like her during his school time, either. Maybe he was getting old. No, he was _definitely_ getting old. He smiled. "Don't worry. I'll see you around."

Already talking to the new students, Sarah disappeared in her office. Eron saw the door close behind her, then it opened again and Sarah's red hair poked through it.

"Eron?"

"Yes?"

"Make sure Madam Chen had some coffee before you talk to her about your pay, okay?"

Bewildered, Eron frowned, but the face had already disappeared. And there it was, again.

"And, Eron?"

"Yes?"

"Don't ask her why the classrooms in the northern wing are on lockdown, okay?"

"Umm… Okay?"

"Great! See you!"

Eron stared after her for a few seconds and then turned to a beaming Rochelle. "Okay…" He said and looked down on her. "So what was that just now?"

Big, brown eyes smiled back.

"Welcome to B.T. High!"


	5. A Place to Stay

_Air after Rain – Chapter 5_

**A Place to Stay**

Probably nobody could tell when the rumors started.

They just were there, from one day to the next. Bad enough we had to enroll in a new school, on a new term, as _juniors_. Especially in a new town, a town too small to have more than one public High School. A town in which everybody knows each other. So when we appeared in Benjamin Theron High School for the start of the new term as the only two new students, we already were the number one topic for gossip.

Sion didn't make it easier. She… well, she sticks out, you know? Her more-golden-than-red hair, her green eyes, her pale skin. She's tall and thin, with exquisitely cut features, and she looks stunning whatever she wears. And I suppose I'm not exactly invisible, either, with my red hair and pale-like-ice eyes. They seem to have lost their color somewhere, don't ask me where. When I was a child I used to imagine my father, whom I never knew, was an Arctic explorer and had given me eyes of ice as a gift for my first birthday. Some people feel afraid when they look at me. I've learned to smile so they won't notice but they still sense something odd and keep their distance. Only Sion doesn't.

Sion is different.

The school was okay, I guess, neat and rather small and just like any other school I could imagine. It lacked the great splendor of the private High School we attended some time before, but it wasn't as bad as the one in the slums we attended another time. There were children of all kinds of backgrounds, all kinds of origin, and for some seconds, I felt hope rise. Maybe this was the place. Maybe here, we would be invisible.

When we walked into the cafeteria that first day, every single head turned to watch us.

Sion flowed through the crowd like she always did: like a fairy queen, an empress. Looking neither left nor right, she strode directly towards the counter, waited for her turn oblivious to the whispering all around her that had started at our entrance. Of course she didn't see that all males' heads had just turned around to check her out. She ignored the girls, too, some of them only staring at her, some whispering behind their hands. The glances weren't hostile by any means – we've had worse – so maybe that was why Sion didn't do anything, didn't say anything, just took her tray and sat down at a table. I slid into the bench with her, having followed her quickly, and tuned out the whispers and gazes, as well. It was something we were well-accustomed to.

At some point the rumor started, and, honestly, I know why it rose in the first place.

_They're together._

Sion's face remained impassive when she heard it for the first time. I actually swallowed too much of my coke and chocked, and she patted my back. Then, she looked at me, her face still unmoved and impassive. But for a second something flashed in her eyes. Something only I could read, something nobody would have expected to be written in her wide, clear eyes.

_Humor._

I felt like laughing, too. Not because the statement was so _ridiculous,_ but because nothing would ever be able to describe even remotely what we have.

As I said, I could see where the gossip came from. Sion and I had been together since I could remember, starting from the day I learned my father would never come back to get to know me. Don't ask me what happened because you won't understand. There she was, a little, scrawny girl with red locks, looking at me seriously. Those eyes didn't change, even though Sion grew and changed. But she still is the same Sion I met that day long ago, and she always will be.

Actually, _being together_ was a strange way to describe that we could scarcely be kept apart. Imagine a magnet: point two opposite ends towards each other and they will attract each other. Not that Sion and I were all too different. We were just different from other, normal people. But together, we seemed to represent an oddity nobody could deal with. Which meant we had spent most of our lives together: ignoring others, well aware of the fact that nobody understood. _Being together_ is only so much informative when its meaning is "being single entities" and "being inseparable" at the same time. Because – call me silly but you know nothing – there was more to our way of life, even if I can't explain properly. We're one, and more than one. We're close and yet apart. We shared so much, lived through so much that I doubt there is something that could separate us. Of course, there always are the _what if's _and there was nothing we could do against that. _Being together_ in the sense of _Sion and me_ was something nobody would ever understand, not even those close to us. And, really, who cared? We had separate homes and different families, lived separate lives and yet she belongs to me like nothing ever did before. And I suppose she feels it, too. She wouldn't say it but Sion doesn't need to say something in order to have me understand her, as I don't need to say something for her to understand me.

Have you ever heard the story of the boy who could hear other peoples' minds' music?

It's an ancient story. My mother read it to me when I was a baby, and it's still my favorite story ever. That boy had a special gift: he could listen to the songs and the music that played in other peoples' minds. Most peoples' songs were harsh and hastened, ragged and mingled with everyday worries. Or people would sound like rock stars, almost screaming their minds' tunes, raw chords, broken scales, intelligible words. But there was this one girl whose mind's tune was classics. She'd hum piano music or think of classical concerts, and it was so strange he fell in love with her. I won't tell you how the story ended, because it's a story you have to read for yourself. But sometimes, I think that's the way it is with Sion and me. I can listen to her mind's music, and it's beautiful.

There was darkness in her, too, of course. There was in everyone.

Sion could be arrogant. She disliked people who weren't able to think for themselves. Those people who followed others without a second thought, those guys who thought trampling on Freshmen's school bags was funny if someone said it is. Those girls who wore skirts which didn't deserve the name because they were belts, actually, just because someone said it was what It-girls wore this summer. I disliked those people, too, but I wouldn't tell them straight to their face. Sion did, and she didn't mind a bit when they screamed and bullied and gossiped. But then, of course, no one would bully Sion. Sion disliked bullies, too, and people who seemed polite but who talked bad about others behind their backs. Sion disliked lies, which meant she was so painfully honest I had to get her out of some dangerous situations once or twice, and it was damn close. In exchange, Sion kept me out of those kinds of situations I'd get into when she wasn't there: mostly fights, but also things like drilling holes into the desks when I was bored or putting up the cafeteria's chairs upside down just for fun. Some people called me a trouble-maker. But I didn't trouble _people_. Not seriously. And I knew the difference between _annoying_ and _troubling_, believe me.

So we kept each other away from harm, in a way. I made sure Sion kept her tongue tied in one or another situation, and she reminded me where I was when I got too bored and distracted. Of course we functioned independently from each other, but where was the sense? People weren't born to be alone.

…

All of this was one year ago.

A new term has started. And we're still here. It's something of a record for us, really, staying in one place for more than a year and still showing no inclination to leave. Definitely a first. It's nothing special, this place or this school, and yet…

Sion floats through the seating area to get her lunch and I follow her. The people don't turn their head anymore. We sit down in a small corner, next to the little, dark-haired girl whom they call Marina and her two best friends, who also sit a bit apart from the crowd. And nobody minds. The three girls chat, and Sion takes a long sip from her water bottle, and I see her eyes flicker across the cafeteria watchfully. Nobody looks. Her shoulders relax and only I can tell because I know her. I know she's slowly accepting the fact: that we're a part of this school now. That nobody looks at us twice because our effect of strangeness has faded, because there are far more important things to think about during class than the strange couple in senior year. And that's exactly the way I like it. The way it should be.

Ronee will be there soon. We haven't seen her for the entire summer break. It's a first, too – us letting anyone get close enough to make friends with us. But Ronee's different, somehow, and it while being with Sion still is the one thing most normal to me, being with Ronee isn't too bad, either. She fits in with us. Or do we fit in with her? Regardless of what it is, I think this is it. For once. Now, finally, when we didn't dare to think it would actually happen…

We found a place to stay.

Sion reads my mind and smiles.


	6. Rainbows

_Air after Rain – Chapter 6_

**Rainbows **

"It doesn't look like it will rain."

The odd comment reached Cassidy's ears at random. Someone had dropped it, a person somewhere near him. Maybe at the neighboring table to the one he was occupying, maybe somewhere around him in the twists and bends of the great library. Terrance tilted his head to the side but showed no sign that he had registered the interruption even though the comment was loud enough to cut through the silence of page-rustling and pen-scratching and why the heck where they here, and why did they have to receive such lengthy homework right on the first week of a new term?

"It won't rain today," he said quietly. To no one in particular, not even to himself. The sky outside the big library window was blue and cloudless, the sun shining down onto the grey and green school buildings stretching out as far as he could see. Outside, it was 39 degrees Celsius in the shadows, and the cool air in the library was a welcome change to the heat they had experienced in the classroom last period. Normally the AC should have kept it bearable but of course it would fail during the hottest days of summer.

"Hmm?" Terrance asked, not looking up from the essay he was writing. As it was, the sole fact that he had obviously reacted to Cassidy's comment was amazing enough. On other days Cassidy would have commented on it but today he was hot, bored and _extremely_ annoyed.

"It won't rain," he repeated, even more annoyed and not quite sure why. "It's terribly hot and there's not one cloud in sight and it feels like hell has opened its gates to let mankind share its warmth and we're stuck inside doing homework!"

Terrance lifted his head and eyed him critically. "You're making a fuss."

"I'm _not_."

"You're _so_ making a fuss. What's wrong?"

Exasperated, Cassidy leaned back and raked both his hands through his hair. "I don't know. I want to go home."

"Well, do so."

"I can't and you know why."

"Skip the class."

"I _can't,_ damn, Terrance!"

Terrance regarded him, his face unmoved, but Cassidy thought he detected a tiny hint of amusement behind his best friend's dark eyes.

"Then I suggest we stop and get some fresh air. I'm finished, anyway."

Grumbling, Cassidy started to collect his pens. "Fresh air, my ass! And I'm not even halfway through this!"

"That's because you get distracted too easily."

"I _don't_."

"You're behaving childish, Cass. Let's go, I'll try to find your humor you lost somewhere today."

"Ha, ha."

"See what I mean?"

…

The lab was _cold._

Damn, he knew he shouldn't have complained about the heat earlier. Everything seemed to come right back at him on days like these, when nothing worked out and everything went wrong. Cassidy knew he wasn't good company today and he felt sorry for Terrance, who had to put up with him and his bad mood. But he couldn't help himself. When he had woken that morning his parents had already left, his mother leaving a cheerful note and the usual scent of coffee and bagels in the kitchen but not, as he had asked her, ten dollars. He had been late. His car had refused to start for five minutes and when he had left he had forgotten to bring his sports gear. When he finally had reached school his usual parking lot was long gone and Mrs. Lavelle hadn't been happy with his tardiness. And as to the rest of the day… Well, it hadn't really gotten better. Which was why he was in a damn bad mood when he entered the Chemistry lab. Where he found the world _totally _hated him today.

Theo, his lab partner, was already sitting at their usual table, cheerfully munching away at a bag of M&Ms.

"Hey," he greeted Cassidy. "Isn't it nicely cool in here? No comparison to that hell of heat outside."

"Gah," Cassidy grumbled and pushed his bag under the table. "What is this? Alaska?"

"Oh the people that never are satisfied!" Theo rolled his eyes theatrically and emptied the bag without offering Cassidy any of the sweets. Which was just as well, since he didn't really like chocolate. "I bet you would like some rain, wouldn't you? Come on, this is the perfect weather for summer. Remember the holidays, cold and wet and… Well, _not_ summer-like at all."

"Why do I have the feeling I'm only talking about the weather today?" Cassidy rubbed his arms once and dove under the table a second time to retrieve his notebook and pens. Theo frowned but didn't say anything, and that, Cassidy thought, probably was for the best. And then Dr. Roi entered the classroom and started his usual walk to and fro in front of the teacher's desk, and _finally_ the day started to get better.

Dr. Roi's Chemistry classes on late Thursday afternoon were the lessons Cassidy enjoyed most. He didn't mind the fact that they were late. The dark-haired, tall teacher was a genius when it came to explaining, and his examples were so hilarious most of his students broke down laughing at one point of the lesson or another. And yet, everyone was able to understand what he wanted to explain. He was one of those teachers everyone wished to have, one of those teachers who were able to make even boring topics slightly interesting – and interesting enough to keep your attention.

"Spectroscopy," he was lecturing, "Is the analysis of substances based on interaction between radiation and matter…"

Theo, as usual, was staring ahead rather absently, neither taking notes nor displaying open interest in the topic. Cassidy knew his classmate wouldn't fail to receive good grades in the next tests despite his seemingly missing interest. Sometimes, the world really was unfair. He started taking notes.

"Dr. Roi?"

A girl had lifted her hand. The entire class lifted their heads to look at her, Cassidy included. She had long, dark-brown hair and skin like milk chocolate. Terrance's sister, he registered, not the biological one but one of the adopted kids. What was her name? He couldn't remember. He had been over to Terrance's place often but had rarely seen her. He knew Jay, because the one twin was _everywhere, _and usually his twin sister – _Jacky? No, Jaqueline – _wasn't far. And Marina, the smallest one, and Ten, of course, Terrance's biological sister. And…

_Teresa._

Yes, Teresa. She seemed to disappear as soon as a stranger entered the house because he couldn't even remember having met her once during his visits. Terrance and he had spent a lot of time together since they were kids and somehow she never seemed to be there when they were. He had met her, of course, during dinner time at the Walkers', or had met her on the corridor sometimes. It was strange, the way she seemed to be able to blend into the shadows because he couldn't seem to remember her face. It wasn't that she was unremarkable but rather… Yes, rather what? He couldn't say. He only knew she was one of the few juniors who took Mr. Roi's Advanced Chemistry class… Cassidy frowned. It seemed like there was a person he never really noticed although he had known her for quite some time now. Why had he never consciously noticed her? Especially since her name was one Terrance dropped in their conversations now and then. Somehow, it seemed, he had always written her off as a younger sibling not worth his attention. Now, though, she was demanding attention, even though she did it in a calm, almost distant way.

"I read that sometimes, rainbows appear to have a second rainbow above them, carrying the same colors but inverted. Why is that?"

Dr. Roi's face lit up like every time a student asked a question.

"Well, that's because light can be fractioned not only once but twice and even trice. When passing through water, it's broken once and diverges into the single wavelengths of light, which is why we see a rainbow, made up of different colors. But if it's broken twice we see a second rainbow above the first. It's weaker, though, because the angles of incoming light are smaller and therefore fraction waves more strongly wavelength-conditioned. This leads to stronger diffraction, and the result is that we see it only when there are near to perfect lighting conditions…It might be even rarer than the legendary pot of gold underneath the ends of the rainbows."

While Dr. Roi elaborated on the question, Cassidy leaned forward to look at the girl. Her face was a mask of seriousness, her right hand holding her pen which was touching her lips. The way she sat there – a white top, her dark skin, her fragile shoulders – she seemed more like a trick of light than like a human being. For some reason he found himself wondering. Wondering if she seemed as breakable from up close as she seemed from far away. Wondering whether her detached expression ever broke into a smile. Wondering… _It's because she's Terrance's sister,_ he told himself firmly. _There's absolutely no other reason._

He still watched her when Dr. Roi had long finished answering her question and she had nodded in something that could be thanks but also plain agreement, as if she had known the answer all along.

…

The sun outside was hot as ever.

Cassidy made his way to the parking lot, thankful for the shadows which slowly started to cover the sun-heated ground. Little relief they were, though, because the heat still hung in the air like mist and refused to cave to the normally cool evening winds that greeted falling night. A pearl of sweat ran down his forehead and he wiped it away, casually searching his close surroundings. On the other side of the parking lot Terrance was leaning against his car, his arms crossed as if waiting for something. _Someone._ Cassidy opened the back door of his car, threw his bag inside and climbed into it, cursing the heat that had turned the seatbelt into a glowing piece of metal. He waited five minutes for the lot to clear out marginally and then started the motor, slowly making his way out of the parking lot.

As he passed by, he caught a look at Terrance greeting his sister with a wordless nod and something so close to a smile he couldn't help but wonder whether aliens had replaced his friend.

The girl smiled back lightly and something in her eyes shifted. The afternoon sun caught in her dark hair.

It probably was then when Cassidy threw all logic overboard.


	7. IceCream Days

_Air after Rain – Chapter 7_

**Ice-Cream Days**

Saturday.

The fresh morning air is clear and warm as Marina skips down the steps which lead from the second floor to the first. Through the big glass windows in the hall, along the staircase, the summer sun shines warmly. Marina walks slower to catch the warm rays, smiling into the bright light with closed eyes. Summer is her favorite season. She loves the warmth. Everything is alive in summer, dancing, glowing, and she feels like dancing, too. She spins a little on the landing, her arms stretched wide, and laughs as she stumbles and almost runs smack into the wall. Jumping down the last two steps, she reaches the first floor. When she passes Reese's door on her way towards the kitchen she hears the soft noise of curtains being opened, so she pokes her head inside.

"Reese?"

"Hm?"

"Good Morning!"

Her elder sister smiles back at her, her hair still unkempt but glowing in the sunrays which falls through the window. Reese, in Marina's opinion, is always pretty, with her dark skin and hair and her chocolate-brown eyes.

"Hey, Mar. Already up?"

"Yes!" Marina takes her in. Reese has put on a plain blue T-shirt and jeans. It is Saturday morning, Terrence, Ten, Jay and Jaq are still asleep, and she and Reese aren't. She has her sister all to herself until further notice.

"Breakfast?" She proposes. Teresa nods absently, searching for her hairbrush and finding it in the wastepaper basket.

"How the… Oh, well, must have fallen. I'm coming, Mar. Give me a second."

…

The ice-cream tastes sweet.

Marina's hands are sticky and her face probably is smeared with chocolate ice cream, her absolute favorite, and she doesn't care. To her right and her left her mother and her eldest sister are sitting on the bench, content in their quiet non-conversation. People on the street all around them walk by and chat, laugh, eat and smile. Two little bags are set onto the bench right next to Mum. Marina smiles when she thinks of their contents. It took them a lot of persuasion to have Reese buy the wine-red top. For herself, there is a jeans skirt and a scarf.

A few sparrows land on the ground around the bench they are sitting on. Marina sees Reese follow them with her eyes. She barely blinks, afraid to miss one second, one move of those tiny, cute birds with their brown feathers and dark beaks. One of them, especially bold, flits closer and cocks its head looking at her. Marina mirrors her sister, sitting there without moving, watching the little bird until Mum sighs and the tiny bird takes off in a flight.

"We should go home," Mum says and sounds sorry. Reese blinks into the warm sunlight like a dozing cat and Marina giggles. While they walk back the open street she takes both Mum's and Reese's hands. They don't mind hers is sticky.

…

Jay and Jaq have taken lunch outside.

There is a picnic blanket in the middle of the little frontyard their house has, a green and blue pattern almost indistinct in front of a lush display of greenery. Dad loves the garden although he seldom has time to take care of it. That way, it grows like it wants to, plants sprouting from dark earth here and there. Nobody cares because everyone loves the occasional sour apples and wild strawberries.

Marina blushes every time she meets Cassidy because his green eyes are so expressive she feels like he sees every single secret of hers. Jay teases her when Mum mentions he and Terrance are having a look at a college close to town and will return in the evening and Jaq uncovers a few boxes of Tupperware filled with cherry tomatoes, sandwiches, little sausages and cucumber. Reese is reading, a pair of sunglasses next to her on the ground because she can't stand using them (she squints so heavily Marina wonders how she can even read a word) and Ten comes running, carrying the bottles of lemonade they just prepared.

Dad comes home much later, just in time to kiss Mum and sit down on the cool grass before Marina and Ten ambush him with all the enthusiasm of daughters not yet aware of the fact that their father is a man, too. Jay starts telling stupid jokes and they all laugh happily because Jaq laughs, too, and Reese blinks into the bright sunlight which falls through the leaves of the young trees.

…

Mum has still work to do.

Her papers are spread all over the blanket they used for their picnic, sheets of white paper covered with her crisp, clear handwriting. She scribbles away busily, a pen tucked behind her left ear, another one holding up the messy bun that is her hair. Dad has gone inside, leaving behind a warm spot on the place he has sat on and the soft after-ring of stories he has told, places he has seen. Sometimes, his voice carries out of the window of his little study, across the garden and to Marina's ears, while he talks to important and less important people on the telephone. Jay runs into the house and returns with their laptop and he, Ten and Marina start a game of Worms while Jaq listens to music from Terrence's mp3-player. Reese is still reading but seems like she is slowly falling asleep, shifting her position slightly every now and then; and their voices and laughter take flight in the warm summer air. Mrs. Rubin passes along the street, Sora doggedly waggling behind her, and Marina runs across the lawn in order to pat the old dog and chat with its lady. While she is still standing there Terrence returns, walking down the street with his best friend. Jaq and Ten join Marina at the fence and Cassidy smiles at Marina, which makes her blush furiously and Jay teases her mercilessly until she hides behind Terrence. Embarrassed but unwilling to leave she listens to the last parts of the conversation taking place between him and Cassidy and her eyes roam the garden. Reese is watching them carefully and turns away suddenly. Marina turns just in time to see Cassidy's gaze return to her, and he smiles at her. The summer heat suddenly seems to increase.

…

They watch a movie, all of them together.

Dad and Mum sit outside, talking in hushed voices, a glass of wine and a bag of salt pretzels on the garden table. Jay occupies the arm chair, Marina, Ten and Jaq sit on the couch. Terrence and Reese are on the ground, leaning against the sofa next to each other. Though the TV is on the movie is only second important.

Through the open garden door the sounds of the evening can be heard, a dark world of wind and whispers separated from their bright, AC'd living-room only by a thin mosquito veil. They have fought for which movie they were supposed to watch and nobody won, nobody lost. A bag of chips is almost forgotten except by Marina, who loves the salty taste.

Jay comments on the movie, especially on the sappy and romantic parts. Ten shushes him, sometimes more or less violently, while Marina sighs and Jaq tries to ignore them. Terrance and Reese just sit there, side by side, comfortable in the strange, silent ways they share. Reese's book is closed, lying right next to her. She stretches out on the carpet after some time, placing her head on her hands, and Marina sees Terrence smile down at her fondly. It is getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and the actor's voices flow into each other already. Marina's eyelids turn heavy and flutter shut, as much as she fights it.

And Marina falls asleep on the sofa, her head on Ten's shoulder and her hand on Jaq's lower arm, and her soft breathing accompanies her siblings' heartbeats.


	8. Run On

_Air after Rain – Chapter 8_

**Run on**

"Jay, where's Jaq?"

Marina poked her head through Jay's door, her dark hair falling into her eyes and a questioning look on her face. Jay looked up right in time to see her frown. He frowned, too.

"Isn't she in the house somewhere?"

His step-sister shook her head violently. "No. I've checked everywhere. And it's getting dark."

A quick look out of the window showed him she was right. It was late, long past dinner. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen or heard his twin since dinner, either. It was not unusual for Jaq to search out a place where she was all by herself but it was unusual for her to stay away for such a long time, and also without telling anyone. Jay got up from his desk chair and mussed Marina's hair on his way out of his and Jaq's room.

"Don't worry, she won't have disappeared."

But Jaq wasn't in the garden and not in the basement and not in the living-room. Voices could be heard from Ten's room, where she sat and played a card game with three school friends. Ten hadn't seen Jaq, Teresa hadn't seen her, and Terrence wasn't home yet. When Jay and Marina passed Teresa's room for the third time, calling and wondering, she joined them, too.

"Maybe we should call Mum," Marina worried.

Teresa shook her head and took Marina's hand. "No. Let's search for her some more. If she's not back by midnight, we can call." She tugged at her little sister's hand slightly. "Come on, Mar. It's time for bed anyway."

Jay listened to Teresa bring Marina to bed. The little girl worried about Jaq, as much as Teresa and Jay did, and she probably wouldn't fall asleep until Jaq, as promised by Teresa, would say good night to her as soon as she returned. The street lamps came on one after another and Jay wondered where his sister had gone. It was so unlike her to leave without a word, without notice. And he worried, too. He, after all, was the last person she had. They were twins, they were family, and before they came to live with Daemon and Anathea they only had each other. They had only had each other since they were taken away from that woman, both of them six years old. But Jay was two minutes and fifty-two seconds older, which was why he always had taken care of Jaq. They had been lucky to be adopted by Daemon and Anathea, damn lucky. Who knew what would have happened if they hadn't been. Maybe they would have been separated, would be living with different families now, perhaps not even knowing about each other anymore… The thought made him reel. Or they would have been sent back to that woman and everything would have continued like it always had before, the same dark room, the same harsh voice, the same, horrid smell of alcohol and other things. Who knew what would have happened if that woman wouldn't have died a few months after they had been put into that orphanage.

Jay was already halfway out of the door when he realized what he was doing.

"Reese!" He called back over his shoulder. "I know where she is! I'll go get her!"

And off he went, after his twin sister.

…

The park was old and ugly and even falling darkness couldn't make it look better.

Jaq sat on the swing of the little, dilapidated playground and listened to the creaking noises of the rusty, old chains. This was the place she and Jay had spent so much time in when they were mere children, trying to get away from the apartment as often as possible. Jay had taken her here, his small hand protectively curved around hers, and she had followed him because she knew he would take her some place the woman wasn't. Not many children had come here, the playground had been old and ugly long before their time already. But they had spent much time here, Jay always inventing stories for her, distracting her and protecting her from reality.

Jaq loved her brother. For a long time, he had been the only person she could turn to, and she had clung to him with the desperation of a child that knows without this one person it would be entirely alone in the world. It had been the two of them, always, and it always would be even though they now had a family, now had a home. She was thankful for that. She loved Anathea, Daemon and all her adopted siblings. They didn't mind she was so withdrawn, always quiet and still. They didn't mind she was completely screwed up, she corrected herself scathingly and almost chuckled. Because that was what she was: unable to let go and yet unable to hold on. Completely insane. God knew how those people could put up with her and her silence, her rejection that was desperation laced with greed and guilt. But they never had left her, never had hurt her, and she knew she loved them as much as she was able to.

Only today, she had needed to get away, because…

"Jaq."

Jay's voice didn't scare her, never could. If anything it was soothing and she turned a bit on the swing to see her twin step into the dim light of a flickering street-lamp. Tracing his features with her eyes, and loving him more than she possibly should, she lifted her hand and he took hers, sitting down on the swing next to hers. They didn't need to stretch anymore to bridge the distance between them.

"Ten years to the day," Jaq said softly and from the way Jay squeezed her hand she knew he understood.

"She's dead, Jaq. She won't come back to get us and besides, we're not children anymore. She cannot hurt us anymore."

"She still can," Jaq disagreed. "She always could. If anyone, she is the one who has the greatest potential to hurt us, mentally or physically."

"Yes," Jay consented. "But we don't have to let her hurt us anymore. We're together. As long as we have what we have, we'll be safe."

Jaq leaned over to lean her head on his shoulder. "I'm afraid, Jay," she whispered. "What if I'll become just like her?"

From the way he took a deep breath before answering she knew he had thought the same thing, too. But his voice was certain. "You won't. I know it."

Somewhat reassured by his faith, she closed her eyes. "We haven't run away for a long time now."

"This is the first time in years, yes." She felt his chuckle reverberate through her entire body. "But we didn't need to lately, did we? And, anyway, the whole life is a run."

"I don't have any breath left."

"Jaq," he said quietly. "Then take a break."

"But who will take over?"

"Well, I won't." The certainty with which he spoke the words made her look up, as did the hurt at his refusal. But Jay wasn't ready. "I won't continue on without you. We've always been together and we'll always be."

"When did it happen?" She asked him after a small pause. He shifted. "What?"

"When did you grow up?"

He laughed, a soothing sound that made her want to join in as well. "I had to, little sister. Someone has to take care of you."

"That's not fair. Who takes care of you?"

"Well, I thought that was your job?"

His answer made her smile and she squeezed his hand. "I will."

…

"There they are."

Cassidy pulled the car up at the sidewalk next to the tiny playground and turned to the girl on his right side. Teresa was a dark shadow against the light of the rusty old street-lamp outside. It made her features only more intriguing. Terrence and he had come back shortly after the twins had disappeared, and since Marina refused to stay at home alone and Teresa had an idea where the twins might be he had offered to take her in his car. She hadn't said a word except for giving him directions and Cassidy found it hard to concentrate on them because he tried to listen to the underlying melody in her voice. She had directed him to this little playground and really, the twins' silhouettes were visible on the swings. Teresa, who had been staring straight on, turned to him, which plunged her face into the shadows of his second-hand car.

"Thank you for taking me."

The finality with which she spoke the words – silent but determined – made him realize that she meant to exit the car and not come back.

"I'll take you back home," he said. "You don't have to walk back. It's late."

She hesitated.

"It's no problem," he added, stupidly hopeful. Finally, she nodded. "Okay." With that, she exited the car. Cassidy watched her leave and wondered what the hell she had that had him so fascinated by her.

…

They still shared a room, even now, with their sixteen years, but Jay was glad they did.

That way, he was able to have an eye on Jaq. That night, when they laid in the darkness, both listening to the cars passing by and the rhythmic breathing of the other, Jaq sighed.

"Maybe she wasn't that bad."

Knowing whom she meant, Jay took his time to reply.

"Well, she made us a birthday cake when we turned four, do you remember?"

Jaq giggled, a sound so rare it was precious. "The one with the turtles made of marzipan! It was wonderful!"

Both fell silent, remembering the person they only called the woman.

"She wasn't always angry," Jay finally said. "She could be very nice. Sometimes, she was almost happy."

"But she could be angry and loud and hurtful at other times. Why do I mostly remember those bad times?"

"Because it's what humans do: remember the bad things so they won't happen again."

"But they do."

"Well." He sighed. "The world's not perfect. Mankind isn't perfect. Whatever you do, it will be wrong to one person and right to another."

"Drinking too much and beating your children is never right."

"No."

Again, they fell silent.

"But she took us to the Boardwalk that summer."

"And she bought us cotton-candy."

"Christmas was wonderful, with all those candles."

"Yeah."


	9. A Good Girl

_Air after Rain – Chapter 9_

**A Good Girl**

Reese waited till dinner until she finally told Ten.

That, probably, was what made her so mad, among a few other things. Dad was home, one of the rare occasions when almost everyone was there. Marina was the only one missing, visiting a friend of hers, and, seen from a later point of the evening, it was just as well she wasn't there. She wouldn't have stood it.

"Ten," Reese said, casually over tuna and green salad, one of her favorite meals. The tone made Ten look up: Reese never was casual. "I won't be able to come to Comic World with you on Saturday."

For a second, Ten only stared at her. Reese avoided her eyes. Nobody had yet picked up on their little side conversation, Terrence, Jay and Dad discussing something, Mum and Jaq quietly conversing. "But," she finally protested. "You promised you'd come! We've been planning this for two weeks now, and there's the big show tomorrow! Natalie Wormsbrecher will be there!"

"I know," Reese answered and really sounded sorry. "I apologize, Ten, but I cannot. There's a French trial test on Saturday and I can't miss it."

"And you've only remembered _now_?"

"It was supposed to be a week later, but the school can't assign enough rooms for all of us that day." Methodically, Reese started dissecting her tuna. Ten was too distracted to care.

"You promised me to come _three_ weeks ago! We've been planning this for so long!" Now, finally, everyone else had realized something was going on, but this, too, she ignored. "It's always the same! You promise me something and then you go back on your word!"

"That's not true," Reese protested, dropping every pretense of concentrating on her food. "You know I never promise things lightly!"

"But you did! You and your stupid ideals! Why can't you just keep your promises instead of never committing to anything? You always try to stay detached, remote – you're cold as a fish! Even Jaq is nicer than you!"

"Ten," Mum warned, at the same time as Terrence said: "You know that's not true, Ten."

"And you!" Ten jumped up, feeling like the whole world was turning against her. She had been so happy when Reese had promised to accompany her to her to a signing of one of her favorite authors. It wasn't as if she wasn't able to go there all by herself. But taking her elder sister was, even if Reese seldom bought or read Manga, something like a treat. Ten could talk about Manga as much as she liked while Reese listened, even though she wasn't overly interested. They would sit outside and have a coffee and Ten loved those days when they were able to spend some time together. She had been looking forward to next Sunday since she had managed to coax Teresa into agreeing to come, and now she felt betrayed. And, as always, Terrence and Mum took Reese's side. "You always take her side!"

At her accusation, Reese had flinched almost invisibly but Ten had seen. Triumph welled up inside her. Her sister was known for her coldness in school – she rarely showed emotions, somewhat similar to Jaq. But Jaq was shy. Teresa was… Well, cold was one word for it. But Ten was able to make her show her feelings, and the fact that she had hurt her sister somehow made her happy right now. Since Reese didn't answer, though, she focused on Terrence with all the anger of the just.

"You always protect her, Terr! It's like I'm not your sister at all! And _she_ isn't your sister, she's only adopted!"

This time, absolute silence fell over the table. Even Jay and Jaq had stopped eating. Dad carefully put aside his cutlery. Shocked by what she had said herself, Ten swallowed and decided attack was the best defense.

"If I had promised something and wouldn't keep it, you would force me to do so!"

"Teresa has an exam," Dad said, dangerously quiet. "She cannot miss it."

'I don't care!" Ten raged, so angry now she saw red spots dance in front of her eyes. "She promised me! But no, dear little Teresa can do whatever she pleases! In fact, everyone here can, except for me and Terrence! It's like because we're your real children you have to be extra strict with us, isn't it? I hate that! They are the good kids and we're the bad ones!"

Storming from the room, she felt tears well up in her eyes. Another reason to run, she thought angrily as she wiped them away. They weren't supposed to see her cry. Angry satisfaction welled inside her as she remembered their faces: Reese, hurt and angry behind her mask, Terrence, shocked, Jay and Jaq hurt as well. And Mum and Dad… To be honest, she hadn't dared to look at them. She knew they'd be angry. They would disapprove of her, of her entire behavior, and Ten hated the look of disappointment on their faces. Now, the tears really spilled over. Grabbing a pillow and throwing herself onto her bed, Ten screamed into the soft material, muffling the sound, until her throat felt raw.

It was always the same.

She could do what she wanted, could work so hard she dropped down exhausted in the evening. But everything she did was overshadowed by what her siblings did or already had done. Reese was better in school than she was. Jay was better in sports than she was. Jaq had a beautiful voice and everyone loved her singing, while Ten loved to sing but it never seemed to get the notes right. And Marina… Everyone loved Marina. She was cute, with her short, black hair and her huge eyes. She was shy and everyone wanted to protect her while Ten was outgoing and loud. All in all, Ten wasn't as perfect as Teresa, as gifted as Jay and Jaq or as cute as Mar. She was, along with Terrence, her parents' real daughter, and yet Mum and Dad cared more for their adopted children. That moment Ten hated them, hated them all for having to share her parents with them. And her brother, too, because clearly Terrence loved Reese more. He had defended her downstairs today. He always took care of her, always protected her. And Mum and Dad, too, worried more about Jay, Jaq and Marina than about her. It was so unfair! She had grown up with her foster siblings, always had shared her parents with them. But she couldn't help the fact that she sometimes wished they would simply disappear. She could do all she wanted: she could work hard in school and bring home the best grades, she could put her effort into helping at home, she could be nice and polite and yet she always was one of the last ones to be noticed. First came Terrence, who had done everything for the first time: get good grades, take part in social events, make her parents proud. Then came Reese, with her aloofness and her scientific nature and her love for books, who was the big girl, the one Mum and Dad trusted to take care of the others and of Ten, too, the one who decided where to go and what to do. Jay and Jaq, though a bit younger than Ten, were next, because they had had oh such a bad childhood and needed oh so much love and trust. And Mar – well, everyone loved Mar, because she was the youngest and sweetest and kindest. And Ten was left – with what? She wasn't brilliant, she wasn't scientific, she wasn't sweet and cute, she wasn't broken and scared. Ten was plain normal, and she resented the fact. It made her feel inferior, and as if her parents didn't care about her as much as they cared about her siblings. Even though she tried so, so hard, studied hard, spent a lot of time working, did everything they asked of her… Crying, Ten buried her head in the pillow. She did everything to be a good girl, and then days like these came along and destroyed everything. _Reese is at fault_, she thought stubbornly and already felt increasingly guilty. But oh – she had tried so hard to be perfect! Only whatever she did, it never was enough.

Never.

She didn't know when she did fall asleep, but when she woke, the sky was pitch-black. She was thirsty, too, so she carefully opened the door of her room and peeked into the corridor.

It was dark and empty.

Making her way down the stairs, she went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. On the counter, she found a dish, covered with aluminum foil. Her curiosity got the better of her, so she peeked underneath and found a piece of cherry cake sitting there, its delicious scent slowly wafting towards her. Thoughtful, she lifted the dish.

Under the dish was a piece of paper carrying her name only. Reese's handwriting was small and functional. Ten would have recognized it anywhere.

Slowly, she started eating the piece of cake. It tasted good. Her anger was gone, had left her feeling guilty. She knew the cake was a gift from Reese. But Reese, too, was the one who rarely apologized, so Ten didn't want to barge into her sister's room and do just that. She had said horrible things, and the hurt in Reese's eyes stood in front of her mind's eye clearly. But she knew Reese would forgive her. Ten loved her sister, loved all her siblings, and fights happened. She hated them, and she hated her temper with which she got herself into such trouble so often… Little wonder everyone liked Reese, with her coolness and her calmness, better. Ten chuckled to herself drily. Returning to her room, she noticed light behind her father's door. She pushed it open.

Dad was sitting at his desk, typing into his computer. When he heard the door open, he looked up and saw her.

"What's up?"

Ten leaned against the door, relieved there was nothing like anger or hostility in his voice. "I can't sleep."

"Have you thought about what you said to your sister and brother?"

His voice was calm. Ten shuffled her feet and stared at the ground. "Yes."

"And?"

"I was horrible. I didn't mean it. I was just so angry."

"What have I taught you?"

"Anger shouldn't control us. Ever."

"Exactly."

Dad hit a key on his keyboard and pointed at her. "Come here, daughter."

Ten walked over to his desk and he pulled her onto his lap, as if she still was four years old and not sixteen.

"You said mean things. You'll have to correct them as soon as possible."

"I will."

"Good girl," Dad said and smiled and Ten suddenly knew why he was such a good diplomat. She leaned her forehead against his, bumping into him perhaps a bit harder than would have been necessary in order to make her point.

"I'm not."

"You are. Even good girls have bad days."

On her way back to bed, she would go and apologize to Terr, Jaq and Jay. She already knew what to say to Reese.


	10. Air after Rain

_Air after Rain – Chapter 10_

**Air after Rain**

Teresa dreamt of him almost every night.

The edges of her dream were frayed and contour-less, and the heavy scent of wet asphalt, trees and grass pressed down on her chest. Every breath was an effort. The air was thick with humidity; not the tiniest gust of wind swept over the place where she was standing. The damp heaviness of a past summer rain made her head spin and her blood run faster and she felt alive. Every fiber of her being was reaching out to the stranger in front of her, yearning for his touch and his smile, but she would always wake up before she caught a glimpse of his face.

It hadn't always been that dream.

When she had been a child, she dreamt her father had come to take her home. In the small, cold bed in the orphanage, she had lain awake for great parts of the night. The soft sounds of sleeping children all around her unsettled her and the place _felt_ unfamiliar and frightening. She didn't belong here but she was old enough to understand there was no other place for her, now that her parents had died. Her father was a dark shadow in her dreams, almost at the edge of them, and he seemed to move in and out without actually belonging there. He would come and lift her up, into his arms, the way he had done so many times before. She could never remember his face but she remembered his smile. She held on to it with everything she had and yet it slipped away, slowly and then faster every day, and soon she was unable to remember his face any longer. The faces of her mother and her siblings, too, vanished, until she dreamt of a long, long train, one black window after another, one dark wagon after the other, until the empty, empty train disappeared and she stood alone on the platform.  
>She dreamt of being left behind in many variations.<br>Her father, mother and siblings would board the train and she would be forgotten. They would run from a burning house and she would be caught in the flames, unable to escape. They would take a car and she would watch as they disappeared, leaving her behind again and again and again. She would wake up, paralyzed with fear, and would be too scared to fall asleep again. Because every time she woke reality came crashing down on her mercilessly: she was alone.

Teresa refused to cry.

She turned cold instead; numb and icy like the glittering crystals which hung from the roof during winter. She didn't speak or smile and only barely ate. The other children were afraid of her, of her who only stared out of the window as if she was waiting for someone who never came. The nurses looked at her with pity in their eyes but Teresa didn't want pity. She wanted her family back, and even four-years-old could understand it was impossible.

Anathea and Daemon came to take her away from the place she hated so much and Teresa loved them for it. It might have only begun slowly, with her refusal to eat with them, to talk to them or to even acknowledge them. But Daemon was kind and Anathea was patient and Terrence was so determined to protect her he broke through the wall she had built up around her someday. And somehow they grew on her and she dreamt of smiles and soft voices and laughter, of sunflowers and beach houses, of sweet lullabies singing her to sleep and of warm, protective arms wrapping her in an embrace.

Teresa was content with her life.

She had a family, she had friends, she had her books and her studies and her life. And she detested herself for still dreaming, _still_ _wishing_. Of someone who held her without words, in an embrace that was neither parental nor merely companionable. Of someone who talked to her just because she was the way she was, of someone who loved her not because she was family but because she was herself. The dreams made her feel lonely and cold on the inside and she wished someone would make them stop. She had a _good_ life. What else did she need?

Romanticism wasn't part of her character.

She was realistic, perhaps too much so. Ten blamed it on the books she read, arguing one could only read so many novels until one stopped believing in true love. It wasn't as if she didn't believe in it: perhaps she was too rational to be able to transfer theory into practice and, even more, apply it to herself. She was old enough to already have had at least three boyfriends and the fact that she hadn't even been _kissed_ before didn't matter much when she thought about it. She didn't need to hurry. And yet, sometimes, in her dreams, loneliness would sneak up on her, swallow her and drown her until she dreamt of him again: of her stranger, the tall man without a face whose silhouette was so painfully familiar to her while she had no idea who he was. She dreamt he held her. There was nothing more to it than that.

During late summer, the moon shone directly through her bedroom window.

Teresa didn't close the curtains at night. The light of the moon and of the one single street lamp shining through into her bedroom were reassuring, casting enough light into her room to outline the shapes and yet not illuminating them directly. Asked, she would have chosen night time over day at any time. While she didn't mind daylight, school or anything else, she did love the night. The darkness was velvety, neither heavy nor threatening. She felt protected, somehow, and strangely alive. Every nightly hour was precious, gifting her with silence. Warm summer and cool fall nights, icy winter nights and fresh spring – she felt alive, felt the wind brush through her hair, the rain on her face or the snow on her palms. Late nightly hours and early morning hours – she loved them as much as she loved her family. Jay always said she was completely messed up but coming from him, who had Jaq as a twin, it didn't mean much. Terrence worried but Terrence _always_ worried about her. And in a way Jay was right because she _was_ a mess: she preferred books over people, hadn't had a boyfriend ever before, was unable to sleep in a room with closed doors and windows and, anyway, only slept when nobody was there to watch her. No stranger, at least. In her opinion it didn't add to her flair of normalcy that she dreamt of a boy whom she never had seen before.

On nights like these – the full moon was so bright the world seemed to glow in silver – she couldn't sleep.

Didn't want to. The air was heavy and hot, a summer night without any wind whatsoever. Time seemed to stand still. The world held its breath. It hadn't rained for three weeks now and the heat was doing strange things to the people. Every day was a challenge, felt as if everyone had been restricted to the most necessary and elementary movements. Nobody liked to do anything when the sun burned down mercilessly and there was no wind to make it at least a little bit more bearable.

But today it was full moon.

And there had been a subtle shift in the weather tonight. Something barely noticeable but Teresa knew it was there. The clouds had started gathering shortly before nightfall and the moon was only sporadically visible. Through her open window she could hear the wind picking up, the leaves of the old trees in the garden starting to rustle in anticipation, and the same restlessness she had felt for the last weeks gripped her again. Only tonight, it was far stronger than it had been before. Underneath her thin sheets it was uncomfortably hot and however she moved and turned, she didn't find a comfortable position. Falling asleep seemed impossible, the dark forgetfulness of it a thousand miles away. Unattainable. Another gust of wind sang in the trees beyond her window and Teresa made a decision.

The stairway wasn't lit but she knew each step by heart.

The house was asleep, as were its inhabitants. It seemed to breathe, too, a huge, living organism. The staircase creaked softly as she descended. The soft, red light of the digital watch in the kitchen illuminated a little piece of the room. The telephone, too, blinked steadily as she passed it. Like a ghost, Teresa flowed through the corridor and then through the living room, her bare feet making soft noises on the wooden boards. The terrace door lock gave its own, familiar sound, and then she stood outside. The stone tiles were still warm and the wind picked up in a melodic crescendo. Every single one of her senses screamed and she stood breathless, looking up into the now-grey sky, anticipating the coming rain.

"Reese."

The voice made her start, the whisper of her name soft and unexpected. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She turned to the right, where a few steps lead down to the garden, and saw two shadows sitting there. The one figure was familiar and spoke with Terrence's voice. The other one was barely visible in her brother's shadow.

"Terrence?"

"It's me and Cassidy." Her brother offered their identities without the smallest hint of wonder at her sudden presence. Teresa could imagine him frowning slightly, though, even though his voice sounded perfectly civil. Cassidy turned towards her and lifted a ghostly hand.

"Good evening."

Teresa reciprocated his greeting, torn between anger at the fact that she wasn't alone, mild surprise that Terrence was there and a strange feeling she couldn't really pin down but that included Cassidy and the fact that she _liked_ to see him there but actually _didn't._

"What are you doing here?"

"We just came back from Nadia's birthday party," Cassidy said, his voice barely audible over the rustling trees. The scent of smoke and alcohol filtered into Teresa's nose and she finally noticed the stump of a still-glowing cigarette the red-head was holding. He must have sensed her frown because he stubbed it out on the stone beside him quickly.

"Oh yeah. I'm sorry."

Terrence snorted. "You didn't care who saw you the entire evening."

Cassidy shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling in quick succession. Teresa wondered whether she should go back inside again. She had wanted to come out here so badly but she hadn't been prepared for company. On the one hand, this was Terrence, and she had spent many hours in the dark just sitting there with him without talking. On the other hand, she never had talked much to Cassidy. Terrence had brought him home many times before and she had found many excuses to not have to be present when he was around, for the simple reason that she had noticed Mar had a crush on him.

And that was bad, because every time she saw him she couldn't help but look at him, too.

Terrence and he had been friends almost since Elementary and as such had spent quite some time together, both at their home and at Cassidy's. The first time Teresa had seen him she had been fascinated with his red hair, his freckled face and his bottle-green eyes. She had watched them from the upper landing of the staircase, hidden in the shadows: two boys in the living-room, concentrating on some kind of card game. Terrence, with his dark skin and hair and eyes, his aura of calmness and his quiet voice. And Cassidy, all pale skin and hair and eyes in complementary colors, concentration edged onto his face like he was wondering how to save the world, not how to play some stupid card game. They were quite different and, at the same time, so much alike Teresa sometimes wondered how they got along so well. But they did. And she felt stupid for wanting him to come over again, especially since the only thing she did when she saw him was to disappear in her room or watch him from the shadows.

He never seemed to notice her, anyway.

She was Terrence's little sister and she never spoke to him when he was around. He probably didn't even know her name. Ten would have called it a crush and exactly for that reason she had never shared her secret. It was stupid and embarrassing, her obsession with him when she had been a kid, and it still was. He never noticed her, so why couldn't she stop thinking of him as soon as she saw him? It was exactly the kind of trouble the heroines of the most stupid love novels she had ever read before got into (and she didn't wouldn't ever touch those again, it had been a huge mistake) and she had no intention of going further than that. It was _Cassidy_. Her brother's best friend.

Cassidy, who made her heart beat pick up speed when he smiled (not at her, obviously). Cassidy, whom she had watched since she had been five years old. Cassidy, whose aftershave reminded her of something she couldn't place, a scent that was strangely comforting. Cassidy, who never had spared her a glance before and now seemed to drill holes into her head with his unwavering gaze she could even feel in the darkness. Cassidy, whom her little sister had a crush on.

She shook herself, angry at her own thoughts and embarrassed that she still would think of him like that. It was strange, the knowledge that he now was a grown man, an adult by everything except by law, and that she still felt awkward in his presence like she had felt as a child. It was so unfair that those feelings hadn't diminished, hadn't left as she grew up as well. She'd never go far enough to call it love but he fascinated her, and perhaps, Ten would have called it so. Ten would have said Teresa only refused to see what was right in front of her.

While she still fought herself on what she was supposed to do now, the first drops of heavy rain started to fall. _Splash. Splash._ Faster and faster they came, their sounds dull on the stone terrace and the glass roof, and Terrence and Cassidy jumped up to retreat under the roof. The scent of alcohol and nicotine became stronger, mingled with the smell of too many bodies, heat and mild shampoo, but they both moved gracefully. The scent only clung to their clothes and Teresa knew her elder brother well enough to know he wouldn't have had too much alcohol. Cassidy, she guessed, was equally restrained.

"About time," Terrence mumbled and pulled off his sneakers. "Well, I'm beat, I'll go to bed. Cass?"

It sounded like a dismissal but Cassidy seemed to know how to take it. He didn't sound offended. "I'll leave then, too."

"See you on Monday. Night, Reese." Terrence smiled at her quickly, then disappeared into the darkness of the living room. The rain had picked up and fell so heavily every other sound was drowned out. Teresa stood there, on the terrace, and watched the rain fall: its fresh smell made her feel alive, wide awake, as if the tiredness she had felt before had flown her system entirely.

She was acutely aware of the fact that Cassidy was still standing next to her.

Everything seemed as clear as crystal: the smell of his aftershave, the musky, alcoholic scent on his T-shirt, the last hints of cigarette smoke. The silence which stretched out between them, the movement of his hand as he pushed away a strand of hair from his eyes without thinking. The gaze of his green eyes went straight ahead, into the rain, and she watched him from the corner of her eyes: his profile was a dark paper cut towards the surrounding night.

"You couldn't sleep," he finally stated and made her jump at the sudden voice which almost drowned entirely in the rushing sound of the rain. A breeze of wind passed them and she shivered. She could now smell the heavy scent of rain, as well, the smell of wet asphalt and trees and grass. At any other time she would have lied – or would have ignored the question since it was nothing that concerned him. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the night air and the warmth besides her.

"No."

"Do you often go outside at night?"

Again, it was nothing that concerned him. "Yes."

He made a sound deep down in his chest, a rumbling affirmative that, somehow, made her heart speed up again. Closing her eyes, she fisted her hands to stop herself from reaching out.

"I like it here."

He was only making small-talk, she knew, and yet she clung to every word he said. Opening her eyes, she searched for an answer – something to say – and found him looking at her. Right at her, right through her, and her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she was sure he had to have heard it. It was impossible to say what kind of expression he wore, the darkness around them too thick to penetrate. And yet something in his gaze took her breath away, banished every coherent thought she was capable of. His eyes caught hers and held them and he seemed as reluctant to let go as she was. But he did, of course, and she immediately cursed herself for having thought there was more to it than a simple glance.

Weakly, she leaned against the cool glass of the big living-room window and looked into the other direction. The rain was heavy and cool. Cassidy didn't say anything else and so they waited, together, until the rain stopped almost as suddenly as it had begun. A new kind of silence draped itself over the garden, the house and the two of them and Teresa still didn't dare to look at him.

"I'm off, then," Cassidy said in her direction. "Thanks for waiting with me."

Opening her mouth, Teresa found she had no answer for this. She swallowed.

"Night."

He turned towards her and gave her a quick smile. In darkness, it was hard to see and she sensed it more than she saw it. Still, it made her heart move in the same eerie way it had whenever she saw him. And then he was walking away, down the lawn and over to the graveled path that lead around the house and to the street. As if they had only waited for this moment, the clouds broke apart and moon light painted the world silvery-white, and Teresa's heart missed its next beat.

She would have recognized this back and set of shoulders anywhere.

The damp scent of air after rain seemed to increase until it filled her entirely. She left the window of her room open for it when she returned to her room, her mind buzzing. Sleep seemed farther away than ever, but she didn't care. She laid in her bed, eyes wide open, and watched the sky clear up and the stars come out, one after another.

When she finally fell asleep, she dreamt of Cassidy's shrinking figure as he walked down the garden path.


	11. One Summer

_Air after Rain – Chapter 11_

**One Summer**

It was hard to look at Nadia sitting on the wall like that and not see her younger self.

In fact, it was impossible.

After the torrents of rain of the last weekend the sun had come out again. But its warmth was fading, the soft chill of fall slowly seeping into the days. The first leaves had started to turn red and golden. The air felt colder and the sun sank earlier. Summer was slowly dying, leaving behind a host of thoughts, smells and memories. Though Terrence's memories went back much further than this one summer, especially when he saw Nadia.

She was sitting on the low brick wall that separated the park's pathways from the small river bed, her hands curled around her notepad and a pen. Once she hadn't been able to reach the ground with her feet. She was now, today, but she had pulled them up and folded them underneath her. She looked small, sitting there, her red hair a halo against the slowly fading green of the background, and for a second he wondered. Standing up, Nadia almost was as tall as Reese, which meant she reached up to Cass's chin and Terrence's chest. But seeing her sitting there, she seemed… _fragile._ Young. Like a child sitting on a brick wall, legs dangling, waiting for her two best friends to join her.

"Hey."

She smiled up at him and the memories intensified. "Hey."

Terrence lowered himself into a sitting position on the wall, noting her bag on the ground before her feet, the pen in her hand and the note pad on her lap. She had been writing. Nadia never went anywhere without paper and a pen but now she closed the spiral-bound pad and tucked the pen into the bun that held her red-and-brown hair. Her hands caressed the cover unconsciously while she waited for him to settle into a comfortable position. For a while, they didn't speak, both lost in memories: three children, a girl and a boy who had never known another life than the one in town, and the new boy, so strange, so foreign, already an outcast because he wasn't like them. And here they were, Terrence thought and almost sighed, years later but still more or less the same.

Only Cassidy was missing.

"This will be our last year," Nadia finally said, looking out over the little park that stretched out in front of them. It was late afternoon on a Friday. The last children playing in the distance were slowly being collected by their mothers – or returned home on their own.

"You want to get away so badly?"

Without looking at him, she shrugged. "I want to see something more than this town."

Of course, he knew that. This wasn't by any means their first conversation. Terrence followed Nadia's gaze: behind the park was the main street, lined with shops and cafés. Then came the residential areas, the neat rows of houses, the school, the public swimming-pool, the tennis courts. Then: nothing. One hour to the next town, two to the next city. This was a world on its own, able to live by itself but by no means spectacular. It was enough for Terrence.

But Nadia wanted more.

Terrence leaned back and looked up into the blue sky. "Well, college _is_ some distance away. Maybe after that you'd like to come back here."

Red locks had escaped her messy bun and danced as she shook her head, but she smiled. "I doubt it. But maybe."

"I like it here."

"You haven't spent your entire life here."

"But great parts of it."

"Apparently not enough."

They exchanged a smile at the well-used arguments. As they lapsed into another companionable silence, Terrence took the opportunity to look at Nadia more closely. The girl he had known had grown into a woman, that much was evident. But overall, she was still the person who had accepted him into her life without question, whom he had spent his childhood with, whom he and Cass had played with, argued with, laughed with and played pranks with. While he and Cass always had remained close, Nadia had drifted away from them during the last years, finding other, and, most importantly, _girl_ friends. Of course they had attended the same school for almost their entire lives, but still there had been an odd sort of distance during the last years that had build up between the three people who once had been dubbed _The Horrible Three_. Actually, Terrence wasn't sure it would have changed until they left town hadn't Nadia explicitly invited them to her birthday party the weekend before. She had made them promise to come. And somehow it had turned out to be like it had been so many years before – the three of them against the rest of the world, a small island in the middle of a ruckus that refused to open up to foreigners. Terrence doubted anyone had noticed the three of them had spent almost the entire evening outside the house while inside, the party had been going on. They always had had the ability to push aside everyone who had tried to get close to them, who had tried to gain their friendship, and somehow they had reconnected as if time hadn't passed at all. Now, suddenly, remembering the laughter and the closeness, Terrence felt awkward. He dropped his gaze to the ground. Nadia had changed, and he had changed, and how could he ever have thought nothing would have?

Nadia, as if sensing his thoughts, sighed. "It's strange being here without Cass."

It was. They had spent hours here in their childhood. Terrence forced his thoughts away from the memories that were wandering through his head and they automatically settled on the topic he had been going over and over for the past week.

"I think my sister is in love."

One of the greatest character traits Nadia had always had been the fact that she was easy to talk to. She was a great listener, able to make one feel as if only the story one had to tell mattered, nothing more. Still, the second the words had left Terrence's lips, he regretted them.

As a response, he got a face wiped carefully clean of every emotion. The fact that his words didn't match their previous topic of conversation seemed entirely irrelevant.

"Is that good or bad?"

Another of her traits always had been that she never asked too _many_ questions. Or she always asked the _right_ ones, he wasn't quite sure which it was. Tired from the thinking, wondering, fearing and doubting he had done over the whole week, Terrence surrendered.

"Reese. I think she's fallen in love. Or, at least, she's slowly realizing she has." His hand went up to brush through his curly hair, a somewhat desperate motion. "Should I even _talk_ about this?"

"Why are you so worried?"

"Because…" He took a deep breath and finally voiced what had been going through his head for the whole week. "It's Cass."

"Hmm." Nadia's dark eyes gazed at him as her mind pondered his greatest fear. "Are you sure?"

_I see her face_, he wanted to tell her. _I see her face when she looks at him. _Instead, he said nothing. Nadia read from his eyes and her brows knit together.

"When you say she's only realizing it now, has she had a crush on him for a long time?"

"Not a crush. Never a crush. Reese has no crushes." The thought almost made him smile. "But yes, I think she has felt for him like that for quite some time now."

"Then why does your concern pike only now?"

Terrence hung his head. "That's what I asked myself, too. The answer is shockingly simple."

"So?"

"Because," he said and turned to look at Nadia directly, "Cass _sees_ her, now."

It was the truth. Terrence had watched his sister watch his best friend from afar for quite some time now and he always had feared the day when Cassidy would notice her. It wasn't as much that something in his best friend's character and habits assured him of his untrustworthiness. Rather the opposite: Cass had dated only few girls in high school, and those he had he had treated extraordinarily well. If he thought about it rationally, he even had to admit that there were only few guys he would accept as Reese's boyfriend, and Cass was one of them. His friend, despite his nasty habit of smoking and his jaw-breaking irony, was one of the few people Terrence trusted completely and would do so with everything he had. And yet, at the thought of Cass and his sister together, something twisted inside him.

Nadia nodded slowly, her gaze lost over the shimmering water of the small river.

Terrence waited for her to say something, and when she didn't, he turned to look at her, his shoulders slumping.

"You think I'm paranoid. Overprotective."

"Maybe the latter," Nadia conceded and grinned, but sobered quickly and repeated her earlier question. "Why are you worried?"

"She's two years younger than him."

"Two?" Nadia frowned, then her forehead straightened again. "I always forget she skipped a grade. But still, two years aren't much."

"Regarding the experience…" Terrence stopped. He didn't want to tell her too much, neither about her sister nor about his best friend. But Nadia gave him a look that told him she knew what he meant. That, he lamented silently, was the curse of a small town. Everyone knew what everyone else was doing. She surprised him by chuckling softly.

"I don't think your sister is as helpless as you think she might be."

Annoyed and subdued, for he knew she was right, he closed his mouth again. The protest, though, was still there, the nagging feeling that something was approaching that he had no control over and would end in tears.

"What are you really scared of, Ter?"

Her dark eyes watched him carefully as he tried to string together logical arguments.

"I don't know. Maybe it confuses me, maybe I'm getting paranoid. But the way he watches her unsettles me. I mean, Reese always looked at him like she knew she never stood a chance, and suddenly he cannot take his eyes off her. He's giving her hope and what if it's over in a few weeks? I don't know how she would take it, I…"

"Give her some credit." Nadia sounded faintly amused. "Teresa's stronger than you think she is."

"I _know_ she is! But Cass… Nadia, you can't understand as long as you haven't seen her look at him. You haven't seen _him_ look at _her_. It's like there's nothing else, like he barely can stand to stand there and _not_ touch her, and not in the way you think but like he cannot stand the thought of her _not_ being there. Until a week before, he barely acknowledged her existence. It's… _strange._"

"So now you're worried for Cass?" Nadia shook her head. Another few red curls escaped her bun and bounced up and down. "Or for Teresa?"

Terrence opened his mouth to answer and closed it again, only shaking his head. Nadia sighed softly and shifted her weight to lighten the burden on her folded legs.

"You've always had a sister complex."

There was no denying. Terrence smiled at the humor in her voice. "I guess so."

For a while, they both watched the sun dance on the water.

"Thanks," Terrence finally said. Nadia shrugged. "What for."

Silence, golden and warm. The air grew cooler around them as the sun settled over the tree tops.

"And despite everything," he stated silently. Nadia cocked her head at him. "…What?"

"Cass should be here right now."

Nadia smiled, a small, open smile that illuminated her entire face.

"He should. Text him."

"Hmmm…"

"It's not like he has anything to do today."

Terrence laughed, a silent rumble in his chest. Miraculously, it took away some of the weight that seemed to have been placed on his chest for the entire week. Nadia had this effect on him.

"Okay."

One summer, and the time never seemed to have passed so fast.


	12. A Broken World

_A/N: For those who have noticed, I haven't been able to reply to the reviews you've left me lately. I'm in the midst of writing my Bachelor Thesis. Hopefully, in August, it will be all over... Thanks to everyone who commented, selected my stories as a favorite or put me on author's alert... You're making me survive this. I'll see you.  
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><p><em>Air after Rain – Chapter 12<em>

**A Broken World**

Summer was fading.

Dying, really – dying a glorious, beautiful death in every color the spectrum had to offer. Red and golden and orange and blue and violet. Sunsets never had been prettier before, never as intense as they seemed now. But the air was slowly growing colder, and nightfall brought a wind that reminded her of fall.

It smelt like fall, too.

Teresa could feel him long before she heard him approach. It was some kind of reaction deep inside her, something that seemed connected to him even when he wasn't close. It scared her. He slipped into her view like a ghost, his movements achingly familiar. Since when? And did it matter?

"Hey."

"Hey."

He didn't come closer, didn't touch her. Not yet. It felt like he was moving around her like he would around a wounded animal: no hasty movements, no loud voices. She didn't blame him. She felt like one. Brittle and scared, ready to bolt. Dreaming of something for years only made one shy away from reality when it presented itself in the colors of said dream and Teresa wasn't sure yet this was real.

"How was your day?"

She shrugged. "Normal."

Cassidy chuckled. The sound reverberated in her mind, a warm echo of a feeling she didn't name.

"That bad, huh."

At that she looked at him, _really_ looked at him for the first time that evening.

"Not bad. Just… normal."

"I was joking."

"Oh."

She felt foolish. They fell silent again. The sun had already sunk, leaving the world in a dim glow that almost-but-not-quite blotted out the shadows. It softened Cassidy's features, evened out the lines of his face. Teresa tried to follow the lines with her eyes and blushed as he met her gaze.

He chuckled again.

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are when you blush?"

She blushed even harder. The easiness of his words still was new, so unusual she didn't know what to say. He said it as if it was a fact, as if it was something absolutely normal to compliment on something like her blushing. His openness scared her in the same way it attracted her.

"Of course not. I'm sorry."

He was lying.

Watching Teresa, Cassidy knew by her reaction that he had scared her again, and he felt sorry for _that. _So perhaps his lie wasn't a _total_ lie, this time. But he had said those words fully conscious of the effect they would have. She was beautiful when she blushed – God, she was beautiful whatever she did – but he loved to see her reactions to his compliments. He went as far as to provoke certain situations and was quite sure he probably should feel guilty for it – but he loved to see her regardless.

She looked young, the way she was sitting there, her gaze on her hands. Most of the time he forgot she was two years younger – she was more mature than many men of his age – and talking to her wasn't any different than talking to Nadia or Terrence. She was intelligent, too. Her views on certain matters were interesting. But on some days she looked like a lost little girl and he found those were the days he wanted to hold her and not let go for the next few hours.

Today was one of those days.

However much he loved to tease her, Cassidy had never before tried to push her to say or do something. He knew, for one thing, that he couldn't – couldn't in regard to Terrence, who would kill him if he did something to hurt his precious sister – and because he knew she was strong enough to fend him off. On the other hand he felt like he could wait. If it was for her, he would wait for decades to open up to him. It didn't matter how long she took as long as she was there and belonged to him.

_Four weeks. _

Should he be worried? Probably. Terrence was. Cassidy found he could only look at Teresa. He was looking so hard he almost missed her quiet voice.

"I don't want to fall asleep."

…

She dreamed it again, last night.

The only thing she wanted, by now, was to have her old dreams back. Those had been comfortable and familiar. She had woken with a feeling of loss so great it made her weep, but she hadn't been scared. Now other dreams make their ways into her night and it is not their level of scariness that has her want to never fall asleep again but the feelings they leave behind.

Why on earth she would start having nightmares now she does not know.

Teresa killed people, two nights ago. In her dream, of course. It wasn't intentional, and it wasn't in cold blood. She remembered waking up drenched in sweat and paralyzed with fear. Unable to move, she had lain in her bed, had waited for the images to fade.

They still were in her head, vivid and colorfully. And it hadn't gotten better.

There never was blood or dead or violence. There were the feelings of loss and overwhelming guilt, and uncertainty as she doubted her own decisions, her way of life. The fact that there was no apparent reason only made it worse, gave her the feeling something was wrong with her. Nightmares weren't strange to her. She had dreamed a lot as a child – of burning houses and trains leaving without her, and of fire and flames again and again. And then there had been the dreams of Cassidy. Somehow, they had pushed away her nightmares, had blotted them out. Now that she knew him they seemed to have returned – but these ones were different from her childhood dreams. These images remained in her head clear as crystal as soon as she woke up.

She told him.

In her quiet, somewhat rough voice she told him about her nightmares and Cassidy listened attentively. She sounded fragile as she related them, her head bowed and her hands playing with strands of her hair. He didn't make a move to touch her but his mind was whirling in an attempt to soothe her.

"I dreamed of you, too, you know."

At that, he smiled. It was a wide smile, without any irony or sarcasm, and she loved him for it.

"You _dreamed_ me."

And he kissed her, carefully, but she didn't pull back.

…

_Stay with me tonight?_

_I don't think that would be a good idea. _

_Please._

_…_

They are walking down a dark street, the lamp posts illuminating his features once in a while. The night air is cool on her heated skin, cool but not cold. Summer is her favorite season and she loves the way the soft night wind whispers through her hair. She loves the way the air tastes alive and heavy. She loves the way the night sky is black and endless, and the way the stars seem like a thousand little lights so far, far away. She loves the silence all around them, the silence that seems to envelop her entirely, sets her apart from the sleeping world and makes her part of it more than anything else. But she loves dying summer, too. The world is slowly fading to fall, leaving behind the dream of a life in polychrome. Slowly preparing for winter. Dreaming up spring again. The moist wind is an envoy, whispering of what is to come. Teresa loves the wind, and the coolness, and the rustling leaves collecting on the ground.

And, most of all, she loves him.

…

Teresa wakes up and feels Cassidy's hand in hers.

Dreams, dreams, but not the nightmares that have plagued her the days before. She smiles as her eyes fall onto Cassidy's sleeping figure. He still has his glasses on. She checks the alarm clock. _Sunday. _

It is a broken world she lives in.

Her parents are dead. Her family is dead. Her patchwork family is wonderful, and scary in its perfection, because she is used to fighting parents and screams and shouts and breaking glass. She expects to hear sirens sometimes, to see flashing blue lights, and feels heat and red flames everywhere. On those days, her scars hurt, the ones that cover her back and legs. On those days, she wants to bury herself somewhere, wants to disappear from the face of the earth. On other days she wakes up _(like today)_ and feels whole, and she knows she is safe here. She loves her new family dearly, she loves her siblings and she has learned to value life, even if she cannot love it on some days.

And then there's Cassidy, and she loves him with every shattered piece of her heart.

"I have to warn you," he mumbles. She turns to face him. He blinks up at her groggily, his glasses askew on his nose.

"I'm _not_ a morning person."

Teresa feels laughter bubbling up in her stomach. She can live with that. She can live with a lot. She _can_ live.

It is a broken world. And she chooses it.


	13. Dream in a Bottle

_Thank you for every review, every opinion and every returning reader. This will be the last chapter.  
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><p><em>Air after Rain – Chapter 13. Final Chapter.<br>_

**Dream in a Bottle**

****Darkness. And, in the middle of it, a soft light.

_It's far from perfect, you know that._

_Hm._

_They're strong, I agree. But that's a bit too much, don't you think? Most of them lost their parents!_

_They never had parents to begin with. _

_That's just cruel. _

_It's the truth. _

_You think you're giving them something better? Something worth living for?_

_Don't you?_

_Don't use my own words against me. You know I hate it._

_I think this is better that death. _

_Oh, wow, how unexpectedly deep. So they're not dead, they dream?_

_Exactly. _

_What happened to living?_

_You know the rules. _

_Hell, I _wrote_ them! You sure as hell did, too, but you never minded bending them. _

_…_

_Sheesh. Are you sure about this, Daemon?_

_… Yes. _

_Well, then, let's get going. _

_… Thanks, Sue. _

_Pft._

Darkness. Darkness. A rustling of pages, a soft sigh.

_Sleep well, little ones. _

_Dream well. _


End file.
